


No Remedy for Memory

by Nubriema



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Grief/Mourning, Other, Universe Alteration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-27 11:31:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5046895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nubriema/pseuds/Nubriema
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her grief is as boundless as the depths of the universe. Her love is lost, and she is left with echoes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Remedy for Memory

**Author's Note:**

> Post- _Thor_. Title inspired by Lana Del Rey's _Dark Paradise_.

 

It is Thor who eventually finds her.

She does not rise from the floor when she hears him enter; propriety is beyond her at this point. The image who is not her husband, not truly, sits before her, regarding her with the kind of smile she desperately wishes to be real, but it will never be. Never again.

"Sigyn, are you—"

Thor stops, doubles over. She does not look at him. The image that pretends to be her husband does.

"How, brother, is it possible for you to have lived over a millennium, and yet to not have mastered the simple art of knocking on a door?"

She hears him gasp, and when he stumbles over words to reply, before he realizes his mistake, tears fall. The fact that she has still ones to spare after crying so many is only mildly astonishing to her; at this point, nothing truly fazes her anymore.

The image that is not her husband falls silent.

"Sigyn, what have you done?" Thor's voice is not dry. "What is this madness?"

She cannot answer. She could never explain. Never make him understand that the art of illusion which his brother taught her is the only thing she has left of the man they both love. She extends a hand to the Loki before her, reaches for him, and the image that is not her husband smiles at her and grasps her fingers. She cannot feel it.

Her teeth dig into her lip as her cheeks grow wetter. Her fingers close around the intangible hand, and the image that is not her husband disappears. There is a choking sound, and Sigyn does not know which throat it has escaped. The noise of boots on marble fills her ears, and then the face before her is not Loki's anymore.

Sigyn does not look at Thor. She _cannot_ look at him.

"Do not tell them."

She addresses the floor as she speaks, and wonders why there are no cracks in it. No rifts and fissures. There are so many in her voice, in her mind, in her heart. Why not on the floor? "They would fear for my sanity. Rightly so, I assume," she adds in a whisper. "They must never know. Odin would bind my magic. Do not tell him, I beg you." Thor's hands are on her shoulders, and they are warm, and they rip her apart while holding her. Every tear burns, and there are still so many. "I cannot lose him a second time."

Thor asks no questions, merely squeezes her shoulders, and his warmth sears her; when his arms envelop her and her face is against his collar and there are tears dripping down her neck that are not her own, her heart is rendered open with the heat, the fire.

"You should not sit here. The floor is cold, Sigyn."

He does not sound like Thor. But it does not matter, for she does not sound like Sigyn, either.

"So is the space between the realms."

Her answer tightens his embrace, and Sigyn feels like she is suffocating.

The arms around her are too thick. The frame that holds her is too broad. The skin against her cheek burns too hot, and the scent she breathes is wrong. The hand in her hair is too big, too calloused, and all she sees is golden flax. When it should be raven locks instead.

The cries that echo through the room do not sound like hers, but they must be, for they are not Thor's.

Sigyn's eyes will not stop bleeding, and her heart cracks with every beat. There is too much pouring forth from all the fissures in her soul, and she does not understand it, for when she looks into them, there is only void.

The body that holds hers together is not the one she wishes it to be. Not the one she needs.

But it is all she has, and it will never be enough.

 


End file.
